The Emotionless, Heartless Bastard
by QuinaLee
Summary: Spock has something important to tell Kirk. Both are afraid of the outcome. What could happen? Crap for summary. AU-ish. One-shot. Kirk POV. Rated T for language. Spock/Kirk. SPORK! Or Spirk, if you're a party pooper. Chekov says you should read.


**WHOA! Quina wrote a non-Twilight story?!**

**Yes, she did. And I'm quite proud of myself too. Well, due to my re-hatched obsession with Star Trek, my brain has been overflowing with fanfiction ideas... :D This one was actually written the day I saw it in the theatre, but I didn't know if I should post it or not because it kind of goes against my penname...**

**This fic is somewhat AU, because Spock is the captain of the Enterprise, and I don't know what Kirk is... Spock is mucho OOC, somewhat.**

**No matter how much I wish I owned Kirk and Spock, I obviously don't. *cries***

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The Emotionless, Heartless Bastard

He stares at me with his usual expressionless face, hands clasped behind his back.

"You wanted to speak to me, Captain?" I ask almost hesitantly, fighting to keep my confidence.

_It's going to be just fine; he only wants to check up with me, _I tell myself. _Yeah, that's it._

"Yes," he replies, taking one slow step forward to place his right hand on the chair in front of him. "Why is it you're fretting?" he asks, raising that damn perfect eyebrow. For a moment I almost thought he was _concerned_.

Of course he isn't, he's fucking _emotionless_.

And some unknown hope, I hadn't realized was there, vanished.

"Don't worry about it," I mutter, more than slightly annoyed. I wish to the God I hardly believed in that he would show something – _anything_ – so I'll know he isn't the heartless bastard I'm convinced he is.

He appraises me silently for a few incredibly long seconds before responding blankly, "If you insist."

"Yeah, I do," I spat, "Now, could you just get on with it?"

I could feel my face growing red with my anger and impatience. And…what? His eyes. Oh, God, his _eyes_. They look…hurt? He blinks quickly, and they return to normal, and that pisses me off more than anything. Could I have just imagined that?

I turn away from him, tearing my hands through my hair and trying my hardest not to scream. Or cry.

"Are you–?" he starts to ask.

"No, I'm _not_ alright," I growl, spinning back to face him. "You never show a fucking emotion! I just need to…I need _something_ to go by. I have no idea what you're thinking!"

"You wish to know what I am thinking?" he counters, a small amount of fury lacing the words. _Finally_, somewhat of a reaction.

"Yes!" I yell, throwing my arms up for emphasis. "I don't fucking _understand_ you!"

"I was contemplating promoting you for the events that occurred yesterday," he tells me, anger ever-present in his eyes. And now he is two steps away. "I was," – step – "thinking…"

He takes the final step, hesitating his words. His face is mere inches from mine.

And suddenly my mind goes blank, and I'm _frozen_. My head is between his gentle hands, long delicate fingers splayed over my cheeks and temples and _hair_. And – oh, _God_ – his lips are pressed against mine. _Firmly_.

Of course, me, being the complete idiot that I am, just _stares_. His eyes are closed and I'm barely able to hear a small sigh of contentment behind his lips. Several long seconds pass, and I'm freaking completely out.

That is until his hands slip down my chest to my waist, pulling me against him, _hard_.

And I completely lose control. My eyes clamp shut, my hands knot in his hair. My lips _move_ against his.

But, suddenly, I regain mental consciousness and push away from him. I glance at him in disgust, but his face is so full of pain. So full of…_everything_, and I feel so fucking sorry for uncapping this. He's unable to compose himself anymore. I've unleashed the raw human in him.

Silent tears run down his cheeks and over his trembling lips. "I-I apologize," he stutters, stumbling back. He looks so goddamn _vulnerable_.

He turns to leave the deck, but I stop him with a hand to the shoulder. "Wait," I whisper, so quietly that anybody who wasn't a Vulcan would not be able to hear.

His feet stop moving, but he doesn't turn to face me. I grab his hand and pull him to me. And I don't even know what comes over me, but I _kiss_ him. Softly, this time.

When I pull back his eyes are radiating happiness. Will I get used to the new emotion-filled him? But at this point, I don't care what I will and won't get used to. That's for later, this is now.

"So, you were thinking…?" I ask gently.

And he smiles; an actual, face-splitting, ear-to-ear _smile_. His face is painted green, and at first this confuses me, until I realize he is _blushing_. He turns away from me in embarrassment.

"I-I…" he begins shakily.

I gently pull his face back to look at me, giving him a reassuring smile.

He closes his eyes slowly. "I was thinking…that I could possibly…be in love with you," he finally concludes with a sigh.

And in that moment, my heart stops beating.

It takes me a while to recover from the initial shock and reply quietly – almost breathlessly – with, "I think I love you, too."

And the emotionless, heartless bastard I once thought he was lights up with pure bliss before giving me another breathtaking kiss.

"T'hy'la," he whispers to me. I have no idea what it means, nor do I care at the moment, because, after months aboard the _Enterprise_, I don't have to pretend anymore.

I am finally happy.

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**Leave your thoughts! This is my first Star Trek fiction, so be nice :)**

**Dif-tor heh smusma,**

**Quina Lee**


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